I might!–unhappy word–O me, I might,
And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;
Till now wrapt in a most infernal night,
I find how heav’nly day, wretch! I did miss.
Heart, rend thyself, thou dost thyself but right;
No lovely Paris made thy Helen his,
No force, no fraud robb’d thee of thy delight,
Nor Fortune of thy fortune author is;
But to myself myself did give the blow,
While too much wit, forsooth, so troubled me
That I respects for both our sakes must show:
And yet could not by rising morn foresee
How fair a day was near: O punish’d eyes,
That I had been more foolish,–or more wise!
Sonnet Xxxiii: I Might
Did you enjoy the the artible “Sonnet Xxxiii: I Might” from Sir Philip Sidney on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply